


Bossy Little Feathery Assbutt

by All_Phlochte_All_The_Time



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 15:12:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_Phlochte_All_The_Time/pseuds/All_Phlochte_All_The_Time
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 2 - It turns out Cas is impatient, pushy, steals covers, and doesn't fully get the concept of clothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bossy Little Feathery Assbutt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Loethlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loethlin/gifts).



Sometimes, Cas wakes up early to go for a run because he likes to watch the sun rise. He runs into town from the bunker to the local coffee shop, arriving just as it opens at 6:30 sharp. He slowly walks back home with two cups of coffee, one for him and one for Dean. When he gets in, he slinks into the bedroom and bothers Dean, rubbing up his sweaty body all over him until Dean is just yelling at Cas to leave him alone. But Cas doesn’t, of course, and he ends up just giving Dean sweaty kisses and tickles him until their coffee is cold and long forgotten on the dresser.

 

Most of the time, Cas is super grumpy in the mornings. He is all squinty eyed and he huffs at Dean under his breath about coffee and how he wants fresh bagels and how he doesn’t understand how Dean can be so damned chipper in the mornings.

 

On this particular morning, Cas is none to pleased.

 

“What do you mean, ‘we’re out of coffee,’ _Dean_?” Cas snaps.

 

Dean looks up from his newspaper with a frown. “I mean  _we’re out of coffee_. Sam went to pick some up, he should be back soon,” Dean says as he absentmindedly scratches his chin.

 

Cas frowns and folds his arms across his chest.

 

Dean looks up at him and he can’t help but laugh. Cas is wearing a Men of Letters robe and his hair is sticking out in about twenty different directions. He has a scowl on his face that would rival any of Sammy’s bitch faces, and he just looks… _adorable_. “Hey, don’t get your panties in a twist,” Dean chides.  

 

Castiel huffs at him and rolls his eyes. He throws his hands up in the air and walks out of the kitchen. “I’m going back to bed! Call me when Sam gets here with the coffee!”

 

Dean laughs and nods. “Sure thing, babe,” he says.

 

“And I sure as hell didn’t hear you complaining about my panties  _last night_ , Winchester!" Cas yells from the hall.

 

Dean’s face burns at the memory of Cas laid out before him in his lacy panties and he grins. “Ah, mornings,” he murmurs before going back to his newspaper.  

 

He’s glad Sammy wasn’t around to hear _that_.

 

 

***

 

Cas is cold  _all the time_. His hands are always cold. He’s always blowing into them during the winter and Dean is always warm, as if he is a walking furnace: warm hands, warm legs and feet, always just radiating heat.

 

And Cas uses this as an excuse to hold Dean’s hands while walking down the street. Dean mumbles something about _investing in gloves_  but he doesn’t mind, not really.

 

At night in bed or on the couch, Cas is always snuggled up to Dean, a blanket tossed over his legs. He clings to Dean and his warmth. His favorite thing is when Dean wraps an arm around him, holding him close, because he feels warm and safe and loved. He can fall asleep without any worries because he knows Dean is there, holding onto him, watching over him,  _always_.

 

Despite the fact that he is usually warm, Dean wakes up freezing on most mornings. He doesn’t mind though; he knows exactly why it happens. He turns over in bed, smiling as his green eyes fall upon Cas’ still sleeping form. His shoulders are steadily rising and falling with his breathing, his lips parted and his hair a mess.

 

Cas is curled into a tight ball, the sheets and comforter wrapped around him like a cocoon. Dean can feel Cas’ cold feet pressing against his legs and he smiles, not minding at all that his angel steals all the covers.

 

***

Dean is fumbling with Cas’ belt and is starting to get pissed off because it just _doesn’t_ want to come off. Cas is laughing and he cards a hand through Dean’s short hair.

 

“You’re gonna have to work harder than that if you want to get into my pants, Dean.”

 

When Dean finally gets the belt off, he just rips it off in one motion and tosses it to the side. He hooks his fingers into Cas’ belt loops, pulls him close and kisses him, hard, on the mouth. He presses his lips up against Cas’ ear and he just whispers, “I can’t wait to fuck you, baby.”

 

When Dean is finally buried inside him, Cas is screaming for Dean to fuck him harder. Asking him if that’s all he’s got. Asking him where he learned to fuck like that until Dean really starts giving it to him and then he’s all _don’t stop_ and  _right there_ and  _please more_.

 

Dean just leans down, pressing a kiss to Cas’ lips as he whispers, “Bossy little feathery assbutt.”

 

***

 

Cas doesn’t really understand clothing when he first falls to humanity. He finds it constraining, even more so than when he had his wings trapped beneath his trench coat. Why should he have to walk around with fabric chafing his skin when he’s in the bunker? When he’s forced to wear clothes, he’s usually in Dean’s: jeans that are too big and hang low on his sharp hipbones paired with a classic rock band tee shirt.

 

He comes downstairs one Saturday, completely naked. Sam and Dean are out on a hunt, having left Cas behind to ‘man the bunker.’ He knew it was really because Dean didn’t think he was ready yet. Cas plops down on the couch and stretches out. He puts his feet on top of the coffee table, taking up all the space he can. Cas watches TV, drifting in and out of consciousness, letting the cool air rest over his skin.

 

Cas doesn’t register the brothers’ return home and he is only snapped out of his slight daydream when he hears Sam yelp and groan. The younger Winchester turns from the room, storming off towards Dean.

 

“Dean! You need to tell your god damned boyfriend to put on some freakin’ clothes!” Cas’ blue eyes are wide as he listens to Sam yell, not moving from his spot on the couch. “I’ve seen him naked probably more times than you have at this point, Dean, and I can most likely tell you the most intimate details of his body and that is something I do not want to know about!”

 

Cas hears Sam storm upstairs and heavy footfalls tell him that Dean is coming into the TV room. There’s a small smile on his face and he sits down next to Cas. Cas immediately sprawls out, his feet now resting on Dean’s lap.

  
“Don’t pay any attention to him, Cas. I definitely prefer when you don't’ wear clothes.”

 

***

 

Cas collapses on top of Dean and closes his eyes.

 

“Hungry,” Cas grumbles.

 

Dean places his hands on Cas’ waist and presses his fingertips down into his skin.  “What?” Dean asks.

 

“Said, I’m hungry,” Cas huffs, his breath warm against Dean’s neck.

 

Dean chuckles and places one hand on the small of Cas’ back. “What, this was too much work for you?” Dean asks with a quiet chuckle.

 

“Riding your cock takes a lot of energy, Dean,” Cas grouses. He rolls over onto his side, stretches and yawns. He places one hand on top of Dean’s stomach and squeezes it lightly.

 

“What are you doing?” Dean asks, frowning at him.

 

“Rubbing it for good luck,” Cas says dryly with a smirk.

 

“You ass,” Dean shoots back.

 

Cas laughs and snuggles up next to him, their bodies connecting perfectly like two lost pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. The bed itself is a mess of tangled limbs and rumpled sheets.

 

Dean reaches over to the bedside table and hits the play button on the dock Sammy had given to them for Christmas and the soft sounds of Ella Fitzgerald’s voice spills out of the speakers.

 

“Can we stay here all day?” Cas asks as he splays his hand out on Dean’s belly.

 

Dean shifts. “I thought you wanted food?” he asks.

 

Cas presses a kiss against Dean’s side and he nods. “I do,” he murmurs.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“Pancakes,” Cas says quickly. He presses another kiss against Dean’s side. “With lots and lots of syrup and butter,” he says as he kneads Dean’s stomach.

 

“Sounds a little sketchy to me,” Dean says as he scrubs a hand across his face.

 

“But you make the <i>best</i> pancakes,” Cas whines.

 

Dean laughs. “I knew it. So you want me to drag my ass out of bed to make you pancakes while you lie here and do nothing?” Dean asks.

 

Cas snuggles closer to him and draws circles on Dean’s stomach with his fingers. “Well I wouldn’t be doing  _nothing_ ,” he huffs as his fingers move lower. He tickles Dean’s bellybutton and then runs a finger on the little trail of hairs below it. He continues to travel further down until he brushes up against Dean’s spent cock. He wraps his fingers around it and gives it a gentle squeeze.

 

Dean shifts and laughs. “You know I’m not as young as I used to be. It’s not gonna magically get hard again,” he snorts.

 

Cas looks at him and wiggles his eyebrows. “Is that a challenge?” he teases.

 

“Oh boy,” Dean mumbles as he closes his eyes. On the radio, one song ends, and another begins.

 

“I get you hard by the time this song ends, you make me pancakes?” Cas asks as he begins to stroke Dean’s cock.

 

Dean rolls his eyes and sighs. He reaches over to the radio and hits the back button, starting the song over from the beginning once more.  “Fine, let’s see what you can do.”

 

Cas laughs and continues to stroke Dean’s cock while Nina Simone croons in the corner about wanting sugar in her bowl.

 

“And if you can’t make me hard? What do I get?” Dean asks.

 

Cas chuckles. “Well, that’s what the repeat button is for, isn’t it?” he asks wickedly as he sits up.

 

They listen to the song a few more times, Dean reaching back to hit the replay button, his breath hitching in his throat when Cas takes him into his mouth. He entwines his fingers in Cas’ hair and closes his eyes.

 

Dean ends up making Cas pancakes anyway.

 

As he watches his angel eat the pancakes in bed, maple syrup caught on the corner of his mouth, he grins.  He leans over and kisses the syrup away, humming contentedly.

 

“You’re so gross,” Dean mumbles as he falls back onto his pillows.

 

Cas laughs. “Yeah whatever, you love it though,” he says.

 

Dean reaches out and plants his hand on Cas’ thigh. He gives it a gentle squeeze and he closes his eyes.

  
He doesn’t have to say it, he doesn’t _need_  to, and Cas knows that.


End file.
